


Soft Mornings, Quiet Whispers

by jerim



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerim/pseuds/jerim
Summary: It takes time, a lot of time, but Hanzo and Angela finally begin to find a sort of peace in their relationship.





	Soft Mornings, Quiet Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend, based on a lot of our fics, rps, and headcanons. Especially during the beginning, maybe Angela and Hanzo don't get along very well. But slowly, as they begin to trust each other, they might allow themselves a soft, quiet moment to show they care :) This short drabble takes place in the future of their relationship.

Soft noises pressed against Angela’s consciousness, easing her out of the dreamless void. Sheets crinkled beneath her fingers as her eyes opened blearily to the gloom.

Too many sleepless nights had burned through her memory, making her wonder when exactly between the piles of research and medical reports did she find her bed. The slowly cooling spot of warmth beside her was a clue; a ghost of a reminder that she probably had help.

The morning was still too early to let in much light, everything wrapped in a hushed sort of haze as Angela quietly got out of bed and padded down the hall towards the kitchen.

She had half expected him to be gone by the time she woke up. Precedence seemed to rule them, their relationship a surprising side effect of their professions yet a good one all the same. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he was called off on a mission, as he wouldn’t have blamed her to start work early. Despite this understanding, it was good to see him there.

“You should go back to bed. It is a foolish thing to disregard a needed rest,” a quiet huff. Hanzo didn’t even look up from the stove but she could feel his exasperation radiating from his back. Nowadays, his exasperation seemed to be of a softer nature, though he’d never admit it.

“Are you trying to doctor me, _herr Shimada_?” What was once used to politely address, she now used to tease him with. There was warmth in old form, a tired smile on her lips.

“I am merely using the wisdom you once imparted upon me, yet you yourself seem lax to follow,” the archer straightened up, tea kettle in his grasp. His hair was untied, clinging wetly to the back of his neck fresh from the shower.

“What’s this?” Angela approached him, crossing her arms over her night shirt.

“Tea.”

“No coffee?”

“I thought it best…” the hardened assassin looked suddenly askance at her disappointed face. “ Last night I found you collapsed in your office. You overtax yourself, and you need to drink something better than your _dirt water._ ” An old joke, based on the disdain of how much coffee she consumed.

“I take it your _leaf water_ is healthily?” The usual rebuttal, yet this time there was a quiet mirth crinkling the corner of her eyes. 

“Of course it is.”

Angela tried to stifle a light hearted snort at the expression on his face. “I must have looked awful, then. It is not like you to so openly worry.”

The pot of tea was placed down onto the kitchen table with a thunk. In an instant the distance was closed between them, Hanzo gently taking Angela’s hand and raising it to his lips. For a brief moment, guards were put down and walls were collapsed. The dragon removed his scales to show the angel his heart.

“How can I not worry about the woman I love?”

“....” Maybe it was too early in the morning, maybe the kitchen was too dark and maybe Hanzo’s eyes were too bright. There had to be some sort of purely reasonable, medical explanation on why her heart was suddenly trying to beat through her chest. Perhaps it was the fatigue, yes surely that would explain the redness suddenly creeping into her face.

And if she let herself find the crook of his neck and bury her face there, she was only doing it for health reasons. Obviously.  

“Perhaps I _should_ have some of that tea…”  


End file.
